Open Windows II

As goes a saying, especially in a novel by George MacDonald (At the back of the North Wind), the window in our hearts has to be open for change to enter. Of course, the change has to be done by Adonni. The man of no reputation, the healer and the Abba Father. More on that later.

I used to think that the window was the focus, as could be interpreted in the novel. After all, the North Wind says it isn’t A window, it was Her window. The Holy Spirit’s window.

If the cleanliness of the window was the issue, it would not be good. My heart especially. If you have read a few of these columns over the last few years, you know a bit of my life. Not very sociable is a light term. Speaking of which, another column more recently addressed that issue. Especially church attenders and faithful ones too. Open Windows.

This column is dedicated to the folks that have been attending church for some time, some even since childhood. Deacons, leaders and elders too, attentive and a lot of times, complimenting the Pastor/speaker on their talk. Just say ‘thanks, I needed that’. It’s good, don’t misunderstand me. As had been said by my very closest friend, Julie, “don’t take condemnation”Pay attention to what I am saying without judgment please. It works to think beyond our image of ourselves. Growing up is better and preferred. It’s hard and often embarrassing. We all need to grow, constantly. It’s why we listen.

All this illuminating about scripture can be rather distracting if we are not paying attention to the complete conviction and the very passionate person standing in front of you,saying these important things. It’s not a college lecture on philosophy or metaphysics. It’s not the old Greek style of a famous orator. Taking notes is very good, I do that too. The notes are not the passion. They are to be read now and then. After all , you wrote them for that reason! Just as in school you wrote crib notes for the coming exams. The thoughts of those notes return

‘Watch, look and listen’ just as at a railroad crossing is good advice. If we don’t, it’s easy to get distracted by the speeding train in our minds. “I wonder what’s for lunch?” “That gal I saw in the lobby certainly caught my eye till I remembered God’s word on that!” the worst one for me is “I wonder when church will be over, I’ve got to get some shopping done”

We must open our hearts to what is being said, don’t concern yourself about schedules and perhaps about the dirt on your ‘window’. Throw up the sash and let that cool breeze into your heart. When you start to weep, that is the first sign of successful communication and often, astonishment. Those besides you may ask, “What’s wrong!” The correct answer from me is: “these are tears of joy! I cry at great music too”

A word of caution! Don’t wipe your eyes, just get the run off. Tears are good for you. The Lord says he treasures them for grief and this grief is real. It’s conviction for how short our arrows fall when we think we are making a bulls eye with our life. The voice you hear goes way beyond the speaker in front of you.

Let the transformation begin when our dirty window is even slightly open. It isn’t a window per se, It’s just our guard we have developed to protect our damage and disappointments. Filthy windows, and hard to see into as well. We know the dirt and smudges and they mean nothing to who we are. We are created as one of a kind, a miracle of incredible complexity and unique potential. Throw open the sash and indeed, the tears will flow when truth is heard. We don’t usually hear truth about ourselves supernaturally. It’s pretty good. Norm / Jack

Origins of Thanksgiving

The story always starts the same way. A ship, the Mayflower leaves Europe and sails for religious freedom (not to be confused with freedom from religion which came almost 400 years later)

The ship carried 102 passengers and it took over two months to make the crossing. Bad weather and the usual oceanic thrills and danger. They missed their destination at Plymouth (Not Belvedere as has been put forth) They had to sail across Massachusetts bay from Cape Cod a month later.

Those pilgrims consisted of Catholics, Lutherans, Anglicans, Quakers, Presbyterians, Protestants and a few Jews.

There was a genuine deliverance, providential and we are sure, astonishing. Many of the ‘Pilgrims’ as they began to known, died in that first year and in 1621 the first feast began with about 90 of the Wampanoag natives with fish, venison (Five deer) Eels, shellfish, stews, veggies and beer. They fired guns, and drank liquor to seal the treaty of peace.

The treaty lasted till King Phillips war (1675 -1676) when a lot of colonists and natives lost their lives. About 54 years of peace. It was a war between the colonists and indigenous peoples.America’s bloodiest war as 30% of the colonists were killed (2500) and a dozen towns destroyed. About 5000 Wampanoag’s were killed. The head of the natives was Metacong known as Prince Phillip!

The colonists, of course, continued to pray and thank God for provision.

When the American Constitution was enacted in 1798, (221 years ago) Congress left celebrating to the states. Finally on October 3, 1863 President Lincoln proclaimed Thursday November 26th. In 1942 president Roosevelt declared the 3rd Thursday in November to give an extra boost to the merchants for another week of Christmas shopping!

The Thanksgiving holiday 130 years ago had feasts coupled with the Yale vs Princeton football game (1876) In 1920 costumed revelers and Gimbals department store had a parade with Santa Claus. In 1924 the Macy’s parade, also in NYC had huge balloons.

Now the celebration is focused on Intercultural peace, immigrants and home and family.

Canada has their Thanksgiving on the 2nd Monday in October. I began in 1578 for the thankfullness of Milton Frobisher’s surviving. It was on November 6th from 1879 and changed in 1957 to the 2nd Monday in October. 442 years ago. AMAZING.

The turkey is odd, the first presidential ‘pardon’ of a turkey destined for the table was made by President Bush in 1989. It was remanded to a farm to live out it’s life there. Ostensibly uncooked. Who knows how it turns out for a turkey that has a presidential pardon? Which would taste better? A republican or Democratic turkey?

Let us pray for the tradition of thankfulness to engulf our nation and become what it was before we got in the way of a religiously thankful people for deliverance and provision!

It’s Pretty good! Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Synopsis of a Fool on the road to Redemption

A recall of my life is now being revealed to me, bit by bit. Indeed all the mistakes, roads taken that had no outlet or were literally dead ends, were there to take me to a place I did not know I was going. This is the reason I was given the opportunity to write this book. I thought it was my idea!

The Author whose books anchor a sagging bookshelf in our library, has given me hope and excitement as he has done for so many. C.S. Lewis. The first name Jessie Seline and I decided on for my Fiddling Gator identity was Jack. {It was Clive Staples Lewis’ nickname.}

So many authors have that first name in fiction writing and Jessie and I decided it was perfect. Punchy like Jack Dempsey. Masculine and only four letters long. It stuck after being known as ‘Mr Gator’ for years. That story comes to light in this book. A simple newspaper article about my role as a judge in a fiddle contest with a cartoon of an alligator, rocking back on his tail. playing the fiddle.

I know, without any doubt, that our Lord Jesus has me on speed dial to my spirit. I did not even know I had a phone like that before others before that have those, taught me how to listen. I listened when I was a big fool and now I am a tool. Those two letters are close on keyboards and are pushed with the left forefinger. Pointing the way to Him.

My counselor, Mr. Beeves, told me he had never met a man with more trauma than I. He also told me it would always be in my mind and would have six tenths of a second to turn off the reaction of fight or flight to perceived new trauma. Recently, I have asked Jesus to have a USB port put into my head and a jump drive with a program to dive deep and encase those memories where they belong. The past. He has recently acquiesced to that request! Very recently. I did not know He could do that or that I could ask. Look for the port if we meet and I will split hairs with you and show it to you.

Go, Set and get ready. Go to Him set your heart before Him and with Him, and you are ready. Stay on that Highway to Holiness, for “the road to hell is an easy slope, soft underfoot with no warning signs” a. I have asked many friends that were near death to meet me as I ‘cross the bar’ to eternity. I saw one of them leave with five words as he disappeared: “It’s better than you said!” It is.

a. C.S. Lewis

Eleven Dollars Short

I drove About 20 miles out of my way, but it was an undeniable mission. I wrote a column, Scrap yard or junkyard, and it was the scrap yard I was going to.

A few weeks before to this mission, the man that owns the yard worked on a part I needed.He extracted a seat belt assembly out of a 25 year old Ford truck. It was for our old Ford Ranger that needed one. This time it was the right one. First part did not fit at my first acquisition and the reel was locked up. Oh, got to go back and get one that fits and works!

The owner and I had a laugh the last time we were together, teasing a city man who was startled by a snake in the trunk of a vehicle he was ‘inspecting’ near where we were working. He even took a photo of it. A huge rat snake, a scary looking thing when you first meet one. Harmless to us, the smaller mammals don’t like them.

When we encountered the snake man back at the office, I made up a Latin name for the snake and the last word of my invented sentence was ‘Morte’ “It’s a two stepper..better stay clear and don’t throw anything at it again!” The owner, Harold, winked his right eye at me and we had a little smile together. Military bonding time. I paid 25 dollars for the first assembly.

I returned a few days later and told him the door sticker on the truck said 1999 built in November. The truck was actually a 2000 according to knowledgeable gear heads and I missed that small detail. Plus the reel on the first part I got from him did not work. The reel is at the bottom end of the seat belt assembly and that’s the part that allows the belt to be pulled up. If there is a crash, the reel locks up and keeps the belt tight.

Off he went to find an assembly that worked and he found one out in the yard. I heard him with the battery operated whiz wheel grinding away at the sheet metal on the door of the scrap truck. Tough extraction just from the auditory cues as I sat in his shop chair waiting for him. An old chair with stains and worn out. Obviously his chair. He returned and the reel worked. He handed it to me and declared: “twenty five bucks. I worked pretty hard”

I was hoping for a ‘warranty’ so all I had in my wallet was fourteen dollars. He looked at me and my well used truck with four ones and a ten on the seat. He accepted the money and put out his hand for a shake on the deal.

The owner of the scrap yard is older than I and he wears his age well. A Short man with runnels of wrinkles on his face and a focused gaze. He was just coming out of the side door of his home when I drove up today. A man driving a Jeep wrangler was leaning on the door jamb, chatting.

I tried to dismiss the notion it was important to return whenever I had the cash to give him what he deserved. It was one of those gentle and persistent communiques from God. It’s impossible to ignore God when He does tells these things to me. I pray you have these experiences too. I walked up and stood next to the leaning man and held out a ten and a one for the scrap yard owner.

He remembered me, he remembers everything. An astonishment and a smile was given. Another hand shake of our eyes. I told him “ you deserve it for your work” I knew this was right and true.

My drive back home was relaxing. The new pavement on County B was smooth and the detour ahead signs were still up waiting for the paint caravan to finish up.

It was pretty good Norm / Jack

Letter Writing and Reading

There is a loss in our communities that seems like a gain! The texting phenomenon has made writing letters obsolete and to many, cheaper and faster. Pen and Ink started to loose ground when the typewriter was introduced. The expense of ink wells, and ink stains was replaced with typewriter ribbons and skill.

I learned to touch type in the military and I got fast. Electric typewriters and carbon paper worked well. With top secret letters there were no carbon copies allowed. Now there is a new skill, typing on the screen of a cell phone. I have not embraced typing with both thumbs while holding a phone. I am fascinated and irritated at our civilization that has become hunched over while walking or standing, holding ‘the phone’ and writing and reading letters of sorts. Texting along with fun emojis and video clips. How about a three pound Bakelite model? I remember our bag phone and of course, my hand held Amateur radio. The ham radio did not need a phone number to talk to someone. A call sign worked but many times the beginning message was; CQ anyone there?

What I am getting around to is the act of writing and reading. Sitting down quietly while doing so.

I love to write and these columns are much easier to type with Word Press as it checks my spelling and syntax as I type. I have a short term memory issue, often real short time when I am physically writing a word and leave off a letter and skip on to the next one. Leaving off a vowel for instance. I can see my mistake and the software catches it and shows it to me. But that is a byline for this column, I revere actual writing with pen or pencil and using a stamp and an envelope to have USPS deliver my letter.

The major point is keeping in touch, not speedily but with intent beyond the rush of our current lives. “Rushing in not from the devil, it Is the devil” I believe that impatience is included. C.S. Lewis

I have sent a few letters lately to some friends. Some of which I have not seen nor heard from in decades. Several of them have never been answered although I know they were received because they were not returned with address unknown or such postal information. Phone calls work too but we are usually in a rush and an unexpected phone call from a friend of years past is surprising and hard to respond to if you are driving or setting down to lunch in a cafe. I like re-reading and even have a manila envelope for personal letters. It’s good. Phone numbers are passe. There used to be a book called a phone directory. They were hanging by a chain in phone booths. The is no cell phone directory hanging there.

Is there someone you send letters to and wonder if they will ever answer? There is also a very important type of letter that is spoken in private! These letters are referred to as prayer. It’s just me and the Lord alone and I tell Him how things are going and ask questions and have requests too. If my heart is calm and I am speaking in truth and love, I know my prayer is being heard. Peaceful and knowing and feeling His presence.

Often it seems my prayers have not been answered. The way I wanted them to be. Healing, provision for me or someone else. There is also the conversion to faith of someone that I have known a long time or just met. Evangelism. God hears these requests and stretches out his mighty arm and strong right hand and fulfills that prayer. Instantly in many ways we do not see and is always a perfect response from Him. Prayer is essential for all of us. Letters to the lover of our souls.

Someone obviously prayed for me to reach out to Christ, years ago, decades. It happened just the way it was supposed to happen. Why did it take so long? I have no idea and there is no answer until I read the book about me that no one this side of eternity can read. As C.S. Lewis says: “Every chapter is better than the last one you read”

“What is truth?” An old question that goes back to Mars Hill in Greece. Also the original question in the garden. “Did god really say?” Also the question that Pilate asked Jesus a few thousand years back. Jesus did not answer as the Truth was standing right in front of Pilate.

He knew this question of all philosophers as an educated citizen of Rome. Pilate spoke and wrote in Greek, Latin and Hebrew. He wrote the sign above Jesus on the cross. In those 3 languages.A letter posted for all to see throughout history. ‘Jesus of Nazareth King of the Jews’ . Some of the locals disagreed and Pilate said what I have written stands.

The very gift of God will be all we need to keep sending those prayers/letters to him. I know so little of these things but I rely on that gift that gives me peace and confidence that my prayers are heard. Faith.

Do you ever wonder what happens when someone you know or someone you just met, says “I’ll pray about it” Do we follow through? I used to fudge it and forget the promise within a short period of time. Those four words were a dismissive phrase for me. Not anymore. I am growing up and taking responsibility for my life and the things I say and do. There is so little time left for me, and for you.

I was on an official Prayer team at a very large church that seats over 2000 people and we were told to stand in front of them just as the service had ended and with lanyards that said prayer, be available to anyone that came ahead. I loved it. Many times no one came, but the few that did are sharp in memory.

I had to be vetted and interviewed to be on that team and that is very correct to do so. You can surmise the interviews that took place. The teams prayed a lot and I learned how to do so from them.

I am now in production at that church, media, and I also love that. Presenting the songs to the room as messages of praise to the Lord right then and there. The professional musicians know that it is much more than having a good time or playing a good song. We all sing with them and we get to touch eternity.

It’s pretty good. Norm/ Jack

Jump in the Water

Let’s go down, come on down, let’s go down to the river to Pray” 1.

How many decisions do you make in a lifetime? How many in a day? How about right here, right now? Life seems to be mostly decision making. All the little things we have to constantly consider. Where, what and how mostly.

The very important decisions can be interesting. Myself, I was given an interesting decision problem five decades ago. I made the right decision because I am still alive. Things like that leave an impression on us. “Are you serious?” Some decisions are not deal breakers, they are quite simple and are mostly easy to make as well.

A few decades ago, I was given the choice to be Baptized. I was what is called ‘New in the faith’ up to that choice, I wanted to be just like God and be my own man. Just look into my heart and obey what I thought was right. Of course, I was desperately wicked as are all of us. I didn’t have a clue about those things of trust, faith, grace and repentance.

The pastor that came to minister to my dying mother spoke to me instead of her because she had died the night before his appointment. We sat at the kitchen table when he came and he asked me questions about life. I spoke of Gandhi and Buddha and all the rest. He then asked me it wasn’t about them. it was about me. He gave me a C.S. Lewis book, (Mere Christianity) and I read it. It read it a lot. It’s one of my ‘go to books’

Julie and I began attending his church that weekend and they did a funeral with all the trimmings for my mom with no charge. They even lit a candle every Sunday for a month for her. It was astounding and humbling. Not what I expected after some ‘bad’ experiences with the church in general. Usual things we go through as broken people resenting anyone that tells us there is a mending to that brokenness. “Sure, easy for you to say.” Etc. Not really understanding that narrow walk. An iron worker 50 stories up on a big I beam, just walking. What if I go off the path? “The wrong path is soft underfoot, an easy incline with no warning signs.” 2.

That Christmas I was at a cantata in a very local church and as the choir sang ‘Mary did you know’, I was stunned by a man in the choir who spoke the words of the song. Did you know, that those tiny hands flung the stars into the sky. I did not believe in evolution and said to myself, someone had to do it! The song went on and I began to cry. “It’s all true, it’s all true” I then knew Jesus was Lord of all and have never turned back since that time.

A while later, Julie was out walking on our road, up the hill from our mailbox and the Lord spoke to her about being baptized. When she shared it with me, it seemed like a good thing to do. Infant baptism just not adequate for her and thinking about it, not for me either. I was whisked away as a baby by my Uncle and baptized in Duluth. It seemed to not be my decision at that time. We felt that Baptism falls a little short of John’s style. “Repent and be Baptized” Was a breath of sweet air when Julie said that and we agreed together to do so. We both had a few things to repent of. So the Methodist camp where Julie and I had our first romance (Spirit Lake) was the place where we went to be Baptized. Friends came and we put agates in our pockets to give them as mementos. They stood and watched us as we were baptized good and thoroughly.

Pastor Barry did our Baptisms differently. He had never done a full immersion baptism before. He dunked us three times. “For the Father.. for the Son.. and for the Holy Spirit.” I was down on that perfect sand bottom and saw him above in the clear water. When I came up I knew he was looking right at me the whole time. I asked him, “what did you see when you were looking at me?” “A dead man” he replied.

I came up somewhat wet and let go of my nose. Then Julie and I started giving the agates from our pockets to our friends on the dock. They were beautiful as they glistened and we burst out saying because they have been in the water with us and we are clean too.

That was the beginning of a new us, especially a new me. I needed to die and it was a long process and still is. I am getting better as are we both. No longer dead inside but open to our King and Savior as he began breathing life in us. It’s not an instantaneous change because we have to listen and learn from Jesus and read the instruction manual He has graciously given us.

We are learning, every day it seems. Loving God and ourselves as his own and then loving all those people he gives us to love. The neighbor thing to say it, a lifetime to learn. Akin to washing one’s hands in a way. Scrubbing and washing clean. There are many things in our lives that pivot around those those words Jesus gave to us: “Love one another as I have loved you” The love your neighbor as you love yourself was stymied until I forgave myself and began loving my life with the Lord. He started it and He will complete it! Now I know how good it is.

The simplest and hardest thing for me to do. Every day, if I listen well and surrender myself to Him, He guides me to this new life. Jump in the water and it ain’t no trouble if you can, walk on the water. He offers his strong right hand and His mighty arm to us and lifts us out of death into life.

One day in Kansas City, I was sitting in a prayer room, waiting to be prayed over for my strained leg. I had a clear vision as I dozed off to beautiful live worship music. Jesus appeared to me and we were swimming together with a side stroke. “I know you love to swim, do you want to go down? You can breathe down there.” How deep is it? I asked. He replied “How deep do you want to go?” I awakened, healed and started dancing a little for the group waiting to pray for me. I told them I wanted pray for them. “Sure, come on in!” ‘Jump in the water, got no trouble if you can, walk on the waterMichael Mayor

It’s pretty good. Jack Gator Scribe

1. Old spiritual song; ‘Down to the river to pray’ Picture courtesy of Arron Dahl

2. C.S. Lewis the great divorce

Emotion and Worship

We’ve all heard it before in some context; “ you’re so emotional!” My response now to that is

asking, What is wrong with that? We are reluctant to endorse or engage with emotion in many situations. Many psychobabble voices tell us to calm down, damp down our emotions and be calm and ‘clear headed’ I am not sure that is appropriate. I get emotional reading a book or listening to Beethoven’s beauty. Weeping with pleasure and letting my emotions release it.

I have recently been trained in helping people to engage with emotions presented by ‘performance’ in worship music. Live performance, seen on a screen. It’s the same way we watch and listen without knowing we do so. Our eyes are drawn to different things as we move through our lives. We watch and are engaged with our surroundings. Constantly scanning the roads for dangers or beauty. Looking at the dash gauges. We don’t just stare straight ahead, we move our heads and eyes to see the world passing by us.

I have been taught that those are the natural movements and as an example: When zooming in on a singer ( it’s called pushing in) we don’t do it fast. Unnatural, it causes a distraction. We change focus as we look near or far and that is controlled as well. We open or close our iris according to dim or bright reflections or light. That’s called shading. The excitement in video production is different angles and being shown changes and solos we miss if looking elsewhere.

There are also many facets to production that are not noticed but essential. Lighting with movement, color, focus and the use of ‘haze’ to show light beams which catch our eye and help us focus where the light is showing us. Sound, very important and very technical for music and speech. To hear everything clearly, the spectrum of frequencies and to not overpower but to enhance experiences. If the sound feedback happens with a loud hum or a singer overpowers other singers, the room full of people instinctively swivel their heads to the place they know this control is. It’s called a sound booth solo and sound booths are called ‘front of house’ (more media lingo)

It’s an art and if well done, not noticeable if done well, to a person watching or in the room during a live production. Movies are complex and a good example of these things too. You don’t even notice the technical camera work and perfect sound and dialogue that conveys a story. The story engages you and emotions below the surface, sometimes with excitement or tears.

What is our story? The real stuff, the romance between us and Christ. God the Father lifts His eternal baton, Jesus intercedes for our failures and the Holy Spirit whispers songs of Faith and love to us.

Emotion is a gift from God. I can only imagine Biblical descriptions that movies try to capture. The parting of the Red sea, burning bushes and the sea of glass mingled with fire. Do those things stir you? I have heard about production, “oh that’s done to get you emotional” Of course not. As the song says, I can only imagine being there and seeing these things. Ask Him when you show up at those Gates of Heaven. I believe He will be delighted to take you there and be one of those in the Cloud of Witness’. I will ask to help with the run through in the Holy Production for you if I get there first. You will be an operator and we can work together with a lot of help from the Producer and Director. Eternal Productions bring you the reality of all life.

It’s Pretty good. Norm and Jack

Conduit Redux

It began in my childhood. A realization that there was something that delighted and puzzled. While playing on my sisters piano I began to tear up over the slow melody of the moonlight Sonata. Soon, after walking home alone, from grade school, the song was more important than lunch with Casey Jones and Roundhouse Rodney on the TV. It made the school go away. All of it. The forbidden room of his sisters was his at noon and life began anew. Sis’ lunch was at Junior high school and there was no chance of her discovering the invasion. After all, I was born exactly two months after D-Day and understood invasion. I never heard her play on that upright when I was home. She probably waited until I was not there.

A knowing of music is where it began and I still work in that genre. Hearing a song being played or sung for the first time and hearing it afterwards, sometimes audibly like a very soft echo. Recordings, live or remembered have the same effect. Usually the first two measures or so. I even hear the silly song that our new washing machine makes to tell us it is done till it fades!

It then began to occur in a way that an old friend, Judy Larsen, called it the “Twink” or being ‘on all the time’ I see what way the music is trending and also know which notes would fit in to enhance enjoyment and anyone playing or listening to the extra notes. I recently found a CD I was on, recorded in 1979 at the Grizzly Den in Osceola. It was a country swing band, Dandelion Wine. A lot of jazzy stuff and fiddle tunes that I used to play in contests. A few mistakes here and there, but it was good. I also played fiddle with Dave Dudley, a local CW artist with his own bar, Dudley vile, during those times. I also began to want applause on the faces of the audience waltzing past the stage.

My family now is put off by some of the songs like ‘Gotta get drunk’ and ‘ Swinging doors and a jukebox, my new home has a flashing neon sign’ It paid the bills with double bookings that can still see be seen as faint penciled gig dates on the kitchen cabinet door frames that had the old black wall phone nearby. (Soft wood, #2 pencils.) that was before post it notes had been invented. (Early Eighties}

Sometimes it was rhythm changes too. I was known by the square dance band , Duck for the Oyster, as the ‘rhythm monster'(enjoyed often by the band.) Signature and talented music readers can either have fun with it or get puzzled and irritated. Sometimes sung words in syncopation with the written ones. It works. Because I had poor vision and couldn’t read the sheet music in front of me.

One time I thought I had been scheduled to play violin/fiddle with a duet and got up on the stage with them and began to do so. They were a solid duet and they kept looking back at me with puzzlement. I was blocked from engaging with them and so quickly withdrew from the stage. I muttered about my fiddle having issues to keep them at ease. It was OK with me, I didn’t know their set list either.

My improvised music additions led to unexpected events. I was asked by Jerry Garcia to join his group in California, The Grateful Dead, after a jam session in Minneapolis. Why? “Because I like what you added!” was the reply. I was flattered as there were a dozen guitarists in a circle playing at the same time. All eager to show their talent to the famous musician. I said “thank you but I can’t do that.” California meant meant death from drugs. That band is all dead now. Grateful? Not sure about that. Read about it in Motorcycle pilgrimage 5 and 40 acres of musicians.

Lately there have been other downloads of words that come to me that are not musical. They are answers to prayer requests or just visions of events in words that come unbidden. They just come. Uppermost and undeniable. Often in prayer for some situation for someone I just met or has asked me for prayer. Things uttered that can’t be made up. Situations that arrive fully formed and often, I am reluctant to utter them. Is this just me thinking or is it You Lord? This can be a problem. Discerning our own opinions or thoughts.

There is an opportunity for me to speak these words from the Spirit to someone else. I realize that Wisdom has come with these words at times. Not to speak them would hinder the person being prayed for. Often it is fear leading to my hesitancy to tell of the difficulties that follow the vision. Being a conduit at times can be shocking and my thoughts can get in the way. Mistaking my own wounds for healing others wounds. Jesus is so kind and won’t let me go when it is important to him. I refuse with a shrug and His gentle insistence keeps my attention until I do His will. I tell people sometimes He is the most kind and wise nag I have ever met.

A story I just read was about a Jesuit priest in his middle nighties that got off of a train and saw a very beautiful woman coming towards him with a policeman next to her. She said “It’s him, He’s the one!” The priest sad he was so flattered that he pleaded guilty and spent a month in jail. (De Mello)

The wisdom of the old desert fathers has also helped a lot. Words are just words and silence can be a very good choice. Listening is required of us. Quieting response to people speaking and simply listening to them and the Spirit then conveys understanding. , It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Trolley Cars in Minneapolis

The latest news popped up after I was just looking at the weather forecast on my computer.

More rain and the videos of flooding on the Mississippi with a few garages with water up to the entrances where a car should be. Laughing owners in the shot, what else can they broadcast? A man retiring from a shoe repair shop after spending his whole life there. A good man and a well equipped shop. A necessary business but no one interested in taking it over. I had my favorite shoe shop in St. Croix Falls and they sold their building and moved down to Dresser, about 5 miles south. I can’t imagine the town without it. Walking five miles from town when you need new shoe laces. It’s a loss for main street for us. The new location has more room and it is next door to a huge factory making soda pop.

Minneapolis is more inclined now to repurposed older buildings on main streets that sell tobacco, payday loans and lottery tickets. The old stuff has to go. Much akin to decades ago when the city decided to tear out the trolley cars and leave transportation to buses or personal transportation. Even bicycle lanes for some but certainly not most people. Rail transport is European and practical.

When I grew up in the North-side, I used my bicycle to deliver news papers and was not even considering riding it to south Minneapolis to the dentist! Alone. Of course, bikes then were heavier with one speed. There was no need to even consider bicycling around the city, there were trolley cars everywhere that even would carry me to the dentist in the South-side of town.

The local was easy to catch. A number 16 that went from Thomas Avenue all the way downtown. I would get a transfer ticket and walk down Washington avenue to catch the trolley car to the dentist. It was easy and safe and at that time, no muggers, kidnappers and youth with pistols eager to shoot someone. The ride on the trolley was noisy. I liked noise like that. The clicking of the change machine next to the driver. The switching of the electric power mast to the overhead wires and, of course, the clank of the track switch being changed at the same time. They had a really nice bell to warn cars and pedestrians.

The news today is about new trolley cars being put in and whole neighborhoods were outraged that the city would do that. We liked them fifty years ago! They were Convenient and cheap and practical. Now the store owners and residents are outraged at these things. I think it’s a great idea. The new city criminals do too. Mayhem and robbery and just beating people up for fun. Times have indeed changed. The city is scary and filled with angry imbeciles. That’s a Dostoyevsky quote.

It’s not very good, but it would be very good with more of the population having faith in Jesus. Another advantage that rides along with Christians. “Love your neighbors and love your enemies. Many times the same person” a . It’s pretty good Norm Peterson/Jack Gator

a. G.K. Chesterton

What’s the Rush?

I have noticed an uptick in velocities lately. 65 is the new 55. The speed limit signs used to say 55 day 45 at night.Not only on the highways and byways but everywhere. Rear ended in the baking supplies aisle as I was looking for canned garbanzo beans. Little did I know they were in the next aisle. Found them and fronted the shelf as there were only a half dozen back a ways. Pulled them up (it’s called ‘fronting’ in the retail biz) I thought that was a kind thing to do. I missed them first time around and I am certain there is ‘someone’ out there that needs them too.

I began to notice traffic in the carts had picked up since I entered the big box store. The speed of the carts picked up, and I found a check out lane that was staffed and began to wait my turn. It’s always easy to pass the time by reading the scandal magazines with gossip about the royal family. I got rear ended again. A lot of downward smile remnants and avoidance of eye contact. I have written a column about this called ‘anxiety’ but this time I remembered my recent church experiences. ‘Be anxious for nothing’ from a short book called Philippians, chapter 4.

I am a volunteer at what people refer to as a Mega church. Beautiful place to be and I have made many friends with staff and other volunteers. It’s easy in the earlier mornings because there are very few of us around. We wear name tags which helps those of us that have loose pages in our memory name section. I have an excuse for my internal Roledex missing entries. Seizures a half decade ago. Usual complaints we all have. The electrical system in me got a few circuit breakers tripped and corroded. A little rewiring needed. After a few months, we all remember each others names. Usually.

I stay at my volunteer position all morning from 0700 and leave around thirteen hundred hours. By that time, the parking lot is fairly empty and it is easy to find my way My son who is on staff as production director (I am the assistant director) drives us and buys me a crafted press near Forest lake on our way in. Perfect time for Father/Son chats as well. the picture above is my son at the directors console

We spend a lot of our time in the media production room and have breakfast at VC (volunteer central). In between services we get to go into the lobby and chat with people and relax. Sometimes I go into the ‘green room’ where the musicians relax and pray with them It’s a pleasant Sunday in church. I am at comfortable there and since I am there every Sunday, I am a familiar person. A lot of volunteers are there on one Sunday a month.

The usual flow is somewhat different. Within minutes after the service is over, it is almost impossible to enter the main sanctuary and work your way to the front. The salmon upstream with four to five abreast coming at you. No one makes room and it is puzzling and scary in some ways. It feels like a fire alarm has gone off. The worshipers have spoken to God and I want to ask if He spoke to them. I like hearing about those things.

Same deal in the lobby and the parking lot. There are orange cones volunteers put out and police directing the outlets to the frontage road. It’s a lot like leaving the airport. A lot of give and take getting out of the lot. One message encouraged us to give way once in a while to someone waiting to get in line. “you don’t have to be Mother Theresa and let everyone in, there are cars behind you as well”. Just pay attention and move but slowly.

Why do we rush about? I can understand a crock pot miles away or a plane scheduled. It’s that way everywhere, always. Not just in this church.

I would love to chat about this mornings worship, the music, the soul scratching messages. The lobby food is all gone, the coffee shop is closed and it feels like we should now wave goodbye to a pleasant ‘restful’ holy day. The musicians leave as soon as the second service is over. After the second service begins, the food is put away in VC and the cleanup starts.

I like the big lobby in between the 9 and 11 services. People leaving and going but the atmosphere is gentile and relaxed. Some people go to both! We do, we have to. When the second service is over, the camera operators come in to our control room and hang up their electronics and badges and we mention a few shots that really were perfectly, and artistically done

We have a good half and hour to shut it all down and say our goodbyes to staff that are hard at work cleaning and making certain of their tasks. I like going through the corridor between our control room and the musician’s ‘green room’ and trying my hand at a double flip on the plastic hatchet throw target. Sometimes tickling the ivories on a old baby grand that is there with the rest of the stage and cables.

That area I Sometimes refer to as the ‘junk drawer’ corridor. A big electric lift platform next to a work bench with a microphone being soldered. Which hadn’t been touched in 6 months It feels like our shop at home with neat stuff. I soldered it last week with my learned skill building short wave transmitters. A delicate touch is required. I still love the smell of rosin core solder.

Alone among several thousand people and in this instance there is someone beside me and with me and is always for me. He turns His face towards me and gives me peace. I can introduce you to Him if you are interested. I would love to, no rush. It’s pretty good,

Norm Peterson writing for Jack Gator columnist.